


Attack of Huggy Bear

by squeemonster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeemonster/pseuds/squeemonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it a spell? A curse? Or does Dean Winchester just really wuv hugs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack of Huggy Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime in season six, with re-soulified Sam. This is what happens when the show doesn't give us a Dean/Cas hug and I'm bored.

**EDITED TO ADD:** All the points to whoever spots the Arrested Development reference first.

 

  
Sam knows something fishy is going on when he walks out of the diner's restroom and finds Dean hugging the short-order cook behind the counter.

The very old, very greasy, very overweight, and very male cook. Who has a spatula in one hand, a plate of fries in the other, and a completely bewildered look on his scruffy face.

"…Uhhh, Dean?" Sam ventures. "What are you doing?"

Dean jumps at his brother's voice, letting go of the man and turning around. "I don't know, he just looked like…he needed a hug, I guess."

Sam watches as Dean steps from behind the counter and shuffles back to their table. When he glances up at Sam, his face scrunches in irritation. "What?"

Sam side eyes him, then watches the cook across the counter, observing the man as he slides the plate of food to a customer sitting at the bar and rushes to the safety of the kitchen before Dean can accost him again.

"Dude, do you not realize the weirdness of this situation?" Sam asks.

Dean blushes and turns his back on his brother. "Just…he looked like he needed it, okay? Now can we get the fuck out of here? I feel like everybody's staring at me."

"That's because everyone _is_ staring at you."

"Maybe they're just staring at your ginormous forehead."

"…No, I'm pretty sure they're staring at the macho guy that just gently held and comforted Big Al over there."

"I hate you."

Sam throws a wad of money on the table, grabs his gear, and follows Dean out the door, pondering what the hell is up with his brother. He _did_ really enjoy that cheeseburger, but this is taking the love a bit far, even for Dean. He has been a bit moodier than usual, but Sam had just chalked it up to the usual _emo-no-fuck-you-I'm-not-emo-I'm-just-pissy_ Dean attitude.

Sam shakes his head as he piles into the Impala, deciding not to worry about it unless Dean keeps on acting weird.

 

 

************************************

 

Dean keeps on acting weird.

At the gas station later that afternoon, Sam is pumping gas and wondering what the hell is taking Dean so long inside the store. He screws the gas cap back on the tank and wanders inside to find Dean with his arms wrapped around a middle-aged woman in the candy aisle. She's holding her arms out to the sides, eyes open wide in fear, and Sam can hear Dean apologizing to her as he carefully steps up to them.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm hugging you, but I'll, uh, I think I'll let go in a second, um…"

"If you don't let me go I'm going to scream, I swear Imma call the cops you perv, who do you—"

Sam realizes now is the perfect time to butt in and save them both an awkward confrontation with the cops. "Excuse me, ma'am, please forgive my brother, he's uh, he's going through, some stuff? He uh, he just lost his dog, and uhhhh, our grandma just died, and you kinda look like her, so—"

"Hey asshole, are you saying' I look old enough to be your fuckin' grandmother?" The woman is now staring at Sam, her face turning purple, and Sam's not sure if it's because of how pissed she is, or if it's because Dean is squeezing her so tightly she's filling up with blood that can't get past her upper half.

Sam reaches forward, ready to use force to pull his brother off the woman if necessary, but Dean lets go before Sam gets the chance and begins to back away, a look of horror on his face.

"I'll meet you out in the car, Sam," Dean mumbles, turning tail and running outside, stopping at the front counter on the way long enough to throw a pack of gummy bears in front of the register for Sam to pay for.

The woman scurries away and off to the other side of the store, grumbling about weirdo out-of-towners, but Sam ignores her. He watches Dean hurry out to the car, rolling his eyes in exasperation and worry as he goes to pay for the gas and snacks. As an afterthought, he grabs a six-pack of beer, figuring that things are bound to get worse, and he will probably want to drink away the mental images of all this PDA Dean seems to be needing.

Something nudges at the back of his mind, a memory or recollection that he can't quite put his finger on, but he brushes the thought away as he carries the paper bag to the Impala. He folds himself inside the car, slams the passenger door, and settles in his seat, looking over at Dean on the driver's side.

Dean is staring out at the road in front of them, jaw clenched.

"Are we gonna talk about this?" Sam asks, doing his best to keep his voice calm and even.

Dean glances at him from the corner of his eye, and Sam can see just how freaked he is by that one look. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, Sammy," he says faintly. "I was just walking by her, and looked over at her and next thing I know I'm…hugging her."

Sam opens and closes his mouth several times, but he doesn't quite know what to say. "Have you…are you feeling okay? Have you felt sick or anything?"

"Oh, I've been feeling peachy-keen, jellybean," Dean scoffs. "It's not like you and I haven't died a few times, or we have to fight off fuckin' monsters and demons everyday, or we have to save the world from crazy-ass angels, or I'm not always wondering where Cas is or if he's just a wing scorch on the pavement, or I'm not always drinking before noon every day, or—"

"I get it, I get it," Sam interjects, exasperated. "But seriously, Dean. Something is obviously wrong."

"No shit, Nancy Drew."

Sam scratches at his jaw, contemplating their next move. "Well, we need to go talk to that witness over on Burgreen Road, and then maybe scope out the library again, but after that, we can take it easy tonight, maybe sit down and try to figure out what the hell is going on."

Dean leans forward, putting the key in the ignition and starting up the car. "Sounds like a plan," he says over the rumble of the engine.

Sam tries to not let the hint of unease in his brother's voice worry him too much.

 

************************************

 

They end up not even making it to the library after Dean proceeds to hug both the witness and his scantily-clad teenage daughter, prompting the man to kick them out of his house without answering their questions. Dean throws the Impala's keys to Sam as he crawls into the passenger side and reaches over to the backseat for a bottle of beer.

Sam watches as his brother chugs half the beer in one go. "So, I'm guessing you don't want to go to the library for recon," he prompts.

"Fuck the library. If I have to hug one more stranger today, I think I'm gonna cut my arms off."

They drive back to the motel in silence, and wait until their pizza's been delivered before they start trying to figure out what's going on.

"Do you think it's like a curse or something, maybe? Have you pissed anybody off lately?"

"I think the easier question is who _haven't_ I pissed off."

Sam squints at his brother across the table, rolling his eyes at the goofy grin that spreads across his face. At least the beer and the privacy of their room have him in a better mood. "Yeah, you do have a particular knack for being a jerk."

Dean belches and throws a napkin across the table. "Dude, I'm not a jerk, I'm _awesome_. It ain't my problem if people don't know how to appreciate it."

"Actually, it is your problem if you've pissed off someone so much that they've cursed you," Sam retorts.

"Who the hell does a hug curse, though? That's kind of lame."

"Maybe it's a spell of some sort…"

Dean slams his beer bottle down on the table. "Witches? Oh, fuck that noise, you think this is a witch?"

Shrugging, Sam stands to throw away his paper plate. "I don't know, Dean. I mean, this doesn't seem to be their usual MO, and it's not like we've found a hex bag or anything, but still."

"Why would someone put a spell on me to make me hug people? And why am I not hugging _you_?"

Sam leans against the counter, staring across the room at his brother. Again, he's got that little niggling thought at the back of his brain telling him he knows this, this is familiar, but he can't quite grasp what his mind is trying to tell him. "Maybe we should pray to Cas, see if he can come down here and help us."

He watches Dean's face darken at the mention of Cas. "I doubt he'll come. He's too busy with his angel buddies."

Smirking, Sam walks into the bathroom. "Just call him, dude. He'll come. It's not like we've got any other choices right now, and we need to fix this so we can finish our hunt."

He closes the bathroom door, takes a piss, washes his hands, and by the time he opens the door again he finds Castiel standing in the middle of the room, with Dean wrapped around him and nuzzling his neck.

"Hey, Cas," Sam says weakly, waving.

Cas is standing still, back ramrod straight, his arms hanging at his sides. He looks over at Sam without moving his head. "Good evening, Sam," he answers back, voice as monotone as ever.

Sam walks behind Cas so that he can see Dean's face, trying his best not to laugh because this is a potentially serious situation and his brother could be in danger, but the moment he glimpses the look of complete joy on Dean's face he can't help but burst out laughing.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean mumbles.

"Dude the look on your face, like you're the cat who got the cream or something as you nuzzle Cas's hair—"

"Shut the fuck up, Sammy, I DO NOT NUZZLE!"

At that moment Dean seems to gain control of himself again because he lets go of Cas and pushes himself away. Cas continues to stand there, not moving other than tilting his head as he watches Dean.

"I'm afraid I may have missed something here," the angel says. "Why were you…holding me, Dean?"

Dean turns his back on them both, but Sam can see from the side that his face is flushing beet-red.

Sam takes pity on his brother, steps forward to address Cas himself. "Uh, something's happened to Dean. We think he may have been cursed or had a spell put on him or something. He uh," Sam bites his lip but can't seem to stop from chuckling, "he can't stop hugging people. Or, strangers, except now we know that's not it, since he hugged you, so…"

He lets his words drift off, and watches as Cas's eyes go wide with this information. Cas steps quietly towards Dean, who has his back still turned to them, and his head nods slowly up and down as he gives Dean a once over.

"Have you crossed paths with an unfamiliar demon or a witch lately?"

Dean scowls as he turns around to face them. "Dude, don't you think we would have mentioned that first thing—"

And he cuts himself off as he rushes forward to wrap his arms around Cas again. Sam hears a muffled "Oompf" from Cas as Dean grips him tightly, and after a few seconds he raises his eyebrows as he watches Cas's arms slowly move up to wrap around Dean's waist.

Clearing his throat, Sam says, "Ooookay, I think I'm just gonna go grab a soda from the machine down the hall…"

As he reaches for the door, he hears Dean yell out, voice muffled against the fabric of Castiel's trench, "Grab me a Dr. Pepper, bitch!"

 

************************************

 

Half an hour and ten more spontaneous hugs later, Cas has at least figured out what triggers the hugs.

"Eye contact? Seriously?" Sam asks before bursting out laughing.

Dean glares at him across the table. "What's so fuckin' funny, princess?"

Sam wraps an arm around his stomach as he laughs. "Oh, nothing, except that no wonder all you've done since Cas got here is hug him. You guys are like Olympic gold medalists in eye sex."

"Shuddup, you don't know what you're talking about, you're a crazy Sasquatch and you have stupid hair and—"

" _Dean_."

"What?!" Dean glances over at Cas, and within a blink of an eye, he's wrapped around the angel again.

Sam almost falls out of his chair as he reaches over to grab a tissue to wipe the tears from his face. He hasn't laughed this hard in a long time.

"I was just wanting to say I think I know what did this to you," Cas murmurs as he closes his eyes and squeezes his arms around Dean.

Sam can hear Dean sigh happily as he rubs his cheek against Cas's, a soft rumble of "Mmmm?" erupting deep from his chest as his nose nuzzles (he so fucking _does_ nuzzle) behind the angel's ear.

Sam realizes that this spell might just be the catalyst to get Dean to admit he's got the hots for Cas, but before he can sneak out to give them some privacy he gets the shit scared out of him when suddenly there's an electric _pop!_ in the room, sounding for all the world like a thousand fuses blew up at once. When Sam turns to look back at the couple, he's shocked to see that Cas suddenly has wings sprouting from his back.

Large, fluffy, _rainbow-colored_ wings.

Huh.

Dean pulls away quickly from their embrace. "Holy shit, what the _fuck_ , Cas? What the hell was that?"

Sam watches as Dean avoids Cas's gaze, eyes going wide as he takes in the wings. Cas glances over his shoulder, clearing his throat nervously when he sees his wings.

"Uhhh, Cas? Why can we see your wings?" Dean asks, voice shaky.

Cas clears his throat again before answering, eyes darting shiftily around the room. "Occasionally they become visible against my will. During, ah, some instances of high emotion."

Sam keeps his mouth shut while he watches this unfold. This is totally better than paying ten bucks to see a movie.

Dean wipes a hand across his mouth as he continues to stand there, his gaze fluctuating between the ground and Cas's wings. "Ooookay, that makes sense, I guess. But uh, last time I saw your wings, they were huge and black and badass. Which, ah, begs the question…why are they now fluffy and rainbow-colored and… _cartoon-y_?"

Sam can't help but feel sorry for Cas, the poor dude's face is turning red from embarrassment as he shifts from foot to foot, looking like any moment he'll flit away or whatever the hell else it is he does when he disappears.

"Uh, wings will, on this plane of existence, at least, they um, their physical manifestation will sometimes change to represent mood or, uh, desires, or thought processes…"

Sam's eyes dart quickly to Dean as his brother interrupts. "Wait. You're saying that instead of mood rings you have mood _wings_?"

Sam bursts out laughing as Cas glances up at Dean, eyes slanted and pissy until Dean's gaze meets his and he strides forward, wrapping Cas up in his arms again.

"It's not funny, Dean," Sam hears the angel mutter against Dean's shoulder.

"I don't think it's funny, I think it's cool as shit," Dean chuckles. "So what does fluffy rainbow cartoon wings mean? What are you feeling?"

Cas sighs. "Happy. It means I'm happy, Dean."

Thinking this is probably a good time to start paying attention to other things, Sam opens up his laptop, googling for hug curses and spells. He does what he can to ignore his brother and Cas whispering softly to each other, but can't help but overhear when Dean asks if he can touch the wings.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now, touching wings is a very private thing."

"Aw, come on, Cas. It's me, just let me touch 'em for a sec," Dean murmurs, and Sam flips his laptop closed and starts gathering his things to leave, knowing there's not enough brain bleach in the world that will cure him of seeing what's probably gonna go down next.

"Alright, but just for a moment, and ahhhhh…"

Cas's voice trails off, and Sam decides, _fuck it_ , he doesn't need his laptop and his coat or the car keys, he just needs to get the hell out of here right now before—

"Oh Jesus, they're so soft, Cas, damn they feel good, running my fingers through them feels like—"

"Dean, _please_." Cas's voice is wrecked as he pleads with Dean to stop or keep going or _whatever_ , Sam really doesn't want to know, he just wants to be the fuck not _here_.

He jumps as there's another loud _pop!_ , and when he dares to look over at Dean and Cas, he finds glitter sparkling all around them, different colors of every shade imaginable fluttering in the air.

Huh.

This time, instead of pulling away, Dean just continues to keep his arms around Cas, though he does go very still. "Uh, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" Cas mumbles.

"Did you just have a glittergasm?"

"..It's not of import."

 

************************************

 

Once they get past the fact that they just basically had some form of angel foreplay in front of Sam, and once Cas has assured Dean that no, it was not premature glitter-jaculation, they move onto what's really important.

"I believe this is the result of an Annyong demon," Cas informs them, voice gravelly.

"Annyong?"

"Yes, Annyong."

"What the hell is an Annyong demon?" Dean makes a point of not meeting Cas's eyes, although he does sidle up next to him, their arms brushing comfortably against each other.

"Wait, isn't that a fallen angel? I thought Annyong demons weren't real," Sam replies, getting excited.

"No, that's a common misconception of literary scholars. They're not fallen angels, and they are most definitely real," Cas says. "Annyongs are a lower form of demon, nowhere near as powerful as most of the demons you've encountered, or as evil. They enjoy chaos, and specialize in making lives more…annoying, rather than causing real harm."

He pauses to glance at Dean from the corner of his eye before continuing. "One of their favorite forms of trickery is to grant wishes." At that, he stares up at Sam. "Have either of you wished for anything lately? And possibly wished for it in front of someone?"

"Dude, I don't remember every single thing I say every single second of the day," Dean complains.

Sam stares at the wall, feeling that nagging in the back of his head again, telling him this is important, telling him to just remember, for chrissakes…

"Oh God," he says.

Dean's head snaps towards him, eyes narrow. "Sammy, what did you do?"

"Oh shit, I did. I…when we were at the library this morning, remember? You said something that pissed me off—"

"I always say stuff that pisses you off, you gotta be more specific."

"—And I said something about how emotionally closed off you are, and…and…and about how I bet you haven't even hugged anybody in years, except when one of us has died, and I said I wish you'd friggin' hug everybody in sight and then maybe you wouldn't be such an emotionally stunted asshole anymore."

They sit in silence for several beats before Dean responds. "Well, I hope you've learned your lesson not to be such a dick to your big brother."

"Fuck you, Dean, just because I got you cursed doesn't mean it's not true."

"Hey, Farrah Fawcett, be careful what you say or you might find Nair in your shampoo bottle again."

"Enough!" Castiel bellows. "Sam, do you remember if you wished this within earshot of anyone at the library?"

Sam sighs, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Yeah. I said it in front of the librarian. If it helps, she smiled and looked like she agreed with me."

"I'm sure she did, Rapunzel."

"Dean, I swear to God, if you—"

Before he can finish his threat, Sam finds that the three of them are suddenly standing in front of the library downtown. When he looks to Castiel for an explanation, the angel shrugs.

"I grew weary of listening to your bickering," he says, well, _wearily_ , "Let's find your librarian."

Once inside, it only takes a moment to find the woman, and even less to convince her to remove the curse, especially once she gets a glimpse of Castiel.

"Really? You have an angel on your shoulder? How very droll," she snorts, flicking a finger their way. "There ya go, curse is gone. At least tell me there were some Hallmark moments, I was really wanting some impact with this one."

"Lady, you're lucky I don't gank you," Dean seethes.

"Oh really? That angel glitter on your cheek tells me you should be thanking me, not ganking me," she snorts.

Sam chokes back laughter as Castiel whisks them back to their motel, Dean shocked as he exclaims, "I thought you said no angel has ever glittergasmed like that before! I thought I was the only one!"

"I just meant _I've_ never…'glittergasmed' like that before," Cas answers. "And it was the truth."

"So, I was your first, then?" Dean asks, smirking. "You wanna see if it's just as good the second time around?"

Cas steps forward, wrapping his arms around Dean. "Yes, please."

"Alright! That's my cue to get my own room and scrub my eyes and brain with bleach until I never remember this, ever again," Sam says, rushing to grab his duffel and laptop. "You guys do…your thing, have fun and please let's never speak of this again."

"Have fun braiding your hair tonight," Dean calls out after him.

"Yeah, have fun getting your glitter on, Huggy Bear," Sam yells through the door as he slams it.  


 

 

 


End file.
